Work Text:
The cover of the game was really nothing special, much more simple than Xiao Zhan had expected something so coveted and supposedly of revolutionary design to be. It likely had been modern and stylish ten years ago or so, when it was first released. The logo and colour palette did scream late 10’s or early 20’s, with its over-simplified lines and pastels. He could see why the company wanted a facelift for the game, even though it remained unbeatable in its market even after such a long time. Xiao Zhan discarded the packaging materials and the wrapping into the corresponding recycling tubs by his door and flipped over the case as he walked into his apartment.
‘No more reason to be lonely! Find your ideal partner easily at home in your own living room!’ it read at the top, underneath a smaller iteration of the tacky, pink Perfect★Match logo. Below that were various short reviews, all giving the game five stars, followed by a short summary of what the game had to offer. The entire text block was surrounded by a whole array of symbols about what hardware the game was compatible with, including four different generations of VR systems. All in all, it looked like a graphic designer’s worst nightmare, and that, of course, was exactly why Xiao Zhan had been sent a copy.
He remembered when the game was new and became so famous, back during those two long years of humanity having to stay inside at home as much as possible. He remembered just how much people had talked about it, how it had been pushed in every outlet, lauded as incomparable and a salvation to people living alone during those troubled times. It had never interested Xiao Zhan. Not then, not now. He wasn’t one to look for relationships for the sake of having a relationship, but he could understand, objectively, why so many had appreciated this game. Especially back then, when people had been so hungry for human contact. Finding the perfect person for you, from the comfort of your own living room? A perfect dream. How it had continued to sell so widely and become completely normalised even after the world returned to normal and actual human contact once more became a possibility— Well, that he had a harder time understanding.
Which was exactly why he needed to try it. If he wanted to do this job well — and he did, he really did, his design studio needed the money — he needed to know what exactly he was working with. What the game was capable of, what its visual strengths were, and all the details that he could pull and utilise in the new marketing look. It was a massive job, and Xiao Zhan was happy to treat it as such. Excited, even.
He placed the game case on his living room table and dumped his bag in its usual spot on his way to the kitchen. He’d certainly make time for the game that night, there wasn’t much time left until he had to properly start working on the project after all. Dinner first though; he hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
The rice cooker had finished exactly as he’d told it to in his home app, and the soft and homely smell of freshly cooked rice lay thick in the kitchen air as he entered. It relaxed him after a long day. Xiao Zhan enjoyed cooking, but workdays that easily stretched past twelve hours made it difficult to find the time during the week. Some friends called him a work-a-holic, and perhaps they were right. He loved his job, though, and it was easy enough to keep up good routines by preparing meals in advance. And when all appliances could be controlled from your phone before leaving work? Even better. Some modern luxuries were really worth it.
He opened the fridge and grabbed the pork he'd prepared a few days back, then picked out an egg from its basket on the counter. He was running low, he noted. "Buy more eggs," he said out loud. His home system confirmed they had been added to the shopping list. He popped the pork and the egg into their respective appliances and leaned back against the counter. Thoughts of the advertisement he’d been working on all day swirled in his mind. He’d finished the work just in time, which meant he was ready to start preparing for his next major project.
Two minutes and thirty seconds passed, and the mini oven informed him his dinner was heated up and ready to be eaten. The egg poacher just needed another 40 seconds and— All done. Xiao Zhan’s stomach let out a little excited grumble at the mere idea of food entering it soon.
Taking the bowl of food with him back into the living room, he placed it next to the game and went to turn on the VR system. He might as well do the set-up sections while eating, there was no point in lying to himself that he wasn’t curious after all. It would be interesting to see what kind of a character the AI would create for him, and how close to something Xiao Zhan would actually like it would get.
He’d call it professional curiosity, and well— He had no plans on paying the subscription fee himself after the timecard he’d been given as part of the deal ran out, so even if it should turn out to be his thing, there was a set end date. That felt comforting, somehow. He’d seen people become strangely attached to the game, and use more money than they could afford on extra items and features. So he was curious, but wary.
The VR system loaded up, and he typed in the game code for it to start downloading the game. That gave him plenty of time to finish eating, but just in case he brought the headset and the gloves next to him, so he could wear them once the loading was completed. His connection wasn’t the quickest in town — sometimes it couldn’t handle streaming 8K movies without lag — but it held up well enough otherwise.
He flipped over the case again, to read the copywriting on it properly as he gobbled up his dinner. The design really was terrible.
Let our revolutionary AI find you the Perfect★Match, to spend all those long evenings at home with you. Our human-like AI companion will get to know you, figure out exactly what you need and create your ideal partner for you. You will never have to be disappointed by love again!
Xiao Zhan raised an eyebrow at the bold statements, and pulled out the manual with one hand, flipping it open. It was very standard, going through the requirements for set-up and how to get started. After that he found a few pages on how the game would work its way to finding that ‘perfect partner’, and how often it recommended one engage in the different activities to give the AI the optimal data to work with. Quizzes, puzzle games, virtual shopping and trial dates were among the options, and the manual cited the trial dates as the most efficient, as the AI would read your interactions with WIP ‘perfect partners’ and so get feedback on what to improve.
It made sense, but sounded like the part Xiao Zhan would enjoy the least of this research. Thoughts of repeated dates brought back memories of the years when his mother had pushed so hard for him to get married, and convinced him to go on date after date. She’d given up eventually, much to his relief, as he’d promised her he would marry if love found him naturally. That it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but that he wanted it to be right. Finally she’d called him a hopeless romantic and given up. It had been a couple of years since then, but the thought of dates — even virtual ones with data creations — felt incredibly unappetising.
But work was work and— he was still curious. He’d struggle through it, for science. Or art, in this case.
The VR pinged and told him the loading and installation was complete just as the last chunk of pork made it past his lips. He told it to start the game while chewing, the words coming out mumbled. Luckily his home system was accustomed to that, and understood him even when speaking nonsense half asleep.
He dumped the bowl and his chopsticks on the table and slid the headset and sensor gloves on, ready to give it a go. At best, he’d already have a vision of where to go with the project the following day. The room lit up in pastel colours around him, and that horrible logo floated in the air, so close he could almost reach out and touch it. He didn’t want to.
“Welcome to Perfect★Match,” a slightly robotic voice spoke, and wasn’t that cute. Quite retro. “To get started, please scan your valid photo ID.”
Well, that was a little uncomfortable, but he guessed it made sense. The game was 18+ after all and it dealt with a whole range of restricted topics. It made sense for the company to need a detailed database of their customers. And it probably helped with the whole matching process too. Anything and everything required scanning an ID these days anyway but, somehow he’d thought a decade old game, though updated along the way, might not have gone there.
He sighed, got up and walked over to flash the chip side of his bracelet in front of the VR set’s reader. It pinged in recognition, and then that cutely robotic voice spoke again.
“Thank you, Xiao Zhan, we are happy to have you with us. Before we connect to the system, and let you begin your journey to find the love of your life, please help us get to know you!”
Xiao Zhan shrugged, and started answering the questions the game threw at him. His physical attributes had already been delivered through his ID scan, so it was only logical the system was more interested in his personality and preferences. The questions were almost too simple, everything from favourite colour and food, to how he preferred to spend a Friday night at home and how he would rate himself on a scale from one to ten. (A solid six.) For each answer he gave, the robotic voice gave a sound of affirmation. Eventually, after what was probably exactly twenty questions, the colourful floating UI gave him a ‘quiz complete’ message. From there he could choose between taking further quizzes and so providing more info about himself from the get-go, or simply connecting. He waved at the connect button.
The floating UI changed, as did the lighting projected around the room, and once the very retro looking loading bar was filled, a new, but equally robotic voice greeted him at the same time as text flowed at the top of his field of vision. Good for accessibility. He wondered if the settings allowed customising that.
“Welcome to Perfect★Match, Xiao Zhan! I have been assigned as your personal AI companion on this journey towards your ideal partner in love. My ID is W1bo-805, but you can easily rename me in the settings if you like.”
The name was quite a mouthful indeed, Xiao Zhan had no idea how to even begin with pronouncing it without spelling it out like the AI itself had done, but he wasn’t expecting to need to use it many times. After all, the AI was only here to make him communicate with projections of people. He assumed those would have names. At least his old colleague had always referred to their partner at home by name. Always A-Yan this, A-Yan that, as if they really were living with someone. Xiao Zhan had found it fascinating, but odd.
He pushed away the thoughts of his strange colleague, and put his focus back on the still talking AI.
“...and I’ll be here as your guide, to get to know you and find you your Perfect★Match. Analysing the data you submitted when signing in tells me I’m dealing with quite the handsome case, despite the mediocre self-evaluation. Ah, if only I had a chance.”
There was a teasing tone to the AI’s robotic voice, and Xiao Zhan found himself quite impressed with how well developed the system’s personality seemed to be. But maybe that wasn’t so strange, if it could conjure up people that real humans would believe in and form relationships with. It had to be capable of being convincingly human. That this extended to the UI as well was quite a neat surprise.
“To get started, you’ll just have to choose some activities from the list over there on the left. Or, you could let me throw you head first into some basic trial dates for the thrill of it! And trust me, we’d get you a good way ahead through that.”
“How confident, wouldn’t just going straight in be like grappling for a needle in a haystack?”
“Now I have never seen a haystack, I’m afraid, but I am one the most sophisticated AIs in the world.”
“Sophisticated and rather fond of yourself, not a quality I’ve come across in AI before,” Xiao Zhan commented with a smirk, amused and surprised by what he was being presented with.
“Of course not, Zhan-ge, I am entirely unique!”
Xiao Zhan raised an eyebrow and let out a small humph at the sudden nickname, but before he had the chance to comment, the AI continued.
”Oh! Yes, you may be wondering! This system was only created eleven years, three months, and 26 days ago, and as such you are older than me! So, ge.”
“Fair enough,” Xiao Zhan scoffed. “Okay fine, throw me into whatever you can cook up then.”
“A wise decision, Zhan-ge, I am grateful for your faith in me.”
He didn’t really have any reason to not have faith, did he? The AI was going to do what it was programmed to do, and perhaps running in headfirst as unwilling to date as he was would in fact be a great way to test the limits of the system. Maybe that would even allow him to find the best sides to market and what to avoid mentioning. He didn’t have anything to lose except for potential dignity, but the only ones who would witness that was him and a computer system.
“But you should know that I really don’t like dates,” he said, a smirk pulling on his lips as he waved his hand over the TRIAL DATE option in the menu. “So… good luck.”
“Mhh, challenges are what makes me grow. I always win, even when I lose.”
Xiao Zhan chuckled as the room around him turned into an average street in a bustling city-center. Again, he couldn’t argue with the AI’s logic, as even his failed dates would surely help it keep learning and perhaps understand someone else better, after. And maybe that someone needed this to fill the loneliness? Even if to him it would make more sense to go outside and meet someone than fill the pockets of a corporation feeding off people’s loneliness.
The AI (Waibo? Weebo? Wonebo? Tricky.) was guiding him along the street with more quips and comments about how this first date would ‘tell it everything it needed to know’. Xiao Zhan was impressed with how real the surroundings felt, and how the other people moving about were somehow blending in just enough to make it hard to notice that they were simply slightly blurry projections. Quite an impressive design, actually. They melted into the background, yet… didn’t. One even set off his natural instinct to dodge, as they walked straight at him, though he could of course just have walked straight through it.
And then his eyes caught on a person standing outside a cafe. Above their head was a bright pink arrow, pointing down and letting him know that this was his target for the day. On top of the very noticeable arrow, it was clear that even the model of the date was designed to pull the player’s attention, seeming somehow brighter and more detailed than the surroundings. Xiao Zhan walked closer.
W1bo had conjured up a cute girl for him, which was entirely predictable considering none of the quizzes had asked him about his preferences. Quite interesting, he noted in retrospect. But yes, Xiao Zhan could do cute girls, and it was likely he would have been presented with one even if such a question had been asked.
She was a good twenty centimetres shorter than him, had natural hair tied up in a loose bun and was dressed in comfortably loose yet feminine clothes. A little retro, with a clear art student-vibe. She did look to be about his age. Based on visuals from a few steps away alone, he might have to give this one to W1bo, and that was almost a little scary. Disregarding the way he could of course see she was computer graphics, she did look cute to him. Now, Xiao Zhan would not pick a partner on any of these attributes, yet it was a little frightening how there seemed to have been more information about him in the few basic answers he gave than he thought.
He steadied himself by taking a deep breath and walked closer, waving at the girl and she turned to look at him instantly, a soft smile on her face.
“Ah, you must be Xiao Zhan,” she said, and her voice was warm and light, a little high-pitched, but with no trace of that robotic tone that W1bo had spoken with.
“Yeah, nice to meet you—“
“My name is Yinhe! Nice to meet you too, Xiao Zhan!”
Xiao Zhan nodded and smiled, and as the girl led him inside the cafe W1bo’s voice rang out in his head.
“Sooo, Zhan-ge, what’s the first impression? She’s cute, isn’t she?”
He quickly waved his hand over the pause button and raised an eyebrow in a random direction.
“I’m more of a judge based on personality and chemistry kind of person than at first glance. —I don’t believe in love at first sight, a little free tip for you.”
There was a metallic laughing sound, and then W1bo continued. “Thank you, Zhan-ge, so generous of you. I have already filed that away for the future. I’ll look forward to your assessment after the date, then.”
“Don’t expect too much,” he said back, before waving at the same button as before to resume the scenario. It was a little disconcerting how everyone, including his date, had simply frozen in place and become blurry the moment he paused, and returned to normal now. But it also kept him grounded, showing that this was just a game, a virtual reality, and this date in front of him did not actually exist. Nor did the AI with the attitude, which still somehow surprised him more. The AI’s reputation really wasn’t undeserved. Granted, even his home system talked back at him sometimes, especially if he asked the same question he’d already asked recently. It had questioned his memory several times, and even recommended he gets a check-up for early onset dementia once or twice. He didn’t take it to heart.
Yinhe was easy to chat with, he found, after they had acquired some drinks and sat down across from each other at a small table.
(“First ones are on me, Zhan-ge, so go full out,” W1bo’s voice had rung in his ears as he was looking at the menu and the game credit prices listed next to each item. That made an awful lot of capitalistic sense. Despite the idea of paying for food and drink he couldn’t actually consume felt ridiculous. But it was all about creating an illusion, was it not?)
He’d been right in his guess, that she had studied art. Fine arts, and she was now painting as a hobby on the side of an office job, in the hopes of one day being able to live off it. (Whatever that meant inside a virtual reality.) She liked classical music, hated bananas and was more of a dog person than a cat person. (Ouch.)
The conversation flowed, but it was clear that she was leading it along efficiently by asking a lot of questions, as if ticking them off from a checklist. He was participating in the conversation, but not enthusiastically, mostly providing short answers to her questions. A real human would most likely have felt his disinterest by then, although Xiao Zhan would not have given answers quite so curt outside in the real world. He valued politeness and friendliness highly.
Through it all, W1bo was providing commentary in his head— suggestions for what to do and say as well prompts that after his trial would add costs to his subscription. It was all rather predictable, and transparent, yet still far more convincing than he had expected. Still, something made him not want to play along entirely, to test stretching the limits of the game and play against it. As if there was something to win by not being easily pinned down by the AI.
“Ahh, come on Zhan-ge, you need to give her a bit more than that. How am I going to learn anything about you with answers like these,” W1bo whined eventually, and Xiao Zhan smiled to himself before waving the pause button again.
“Maybe I want you to work for it,” he said, grinning into nowhere, and W1bo went quiet for a moment, a surprisingly natural pause, as if it had been taken aback by his comment.
“So competitive!,” the AI continued, and Xiao Zhan spent a brief moment wondering if he really was ‘competitive’. He wasn’t sure he would have considered himself that until then, yet here he was, challenging an AI.
“Oh, by the way,” he started. “If I answer you while you ramble without pausing, will my dates hear it?”
“Of course, you’d be speaking in front of them.”
“Hmm, so unless I want to come off as a lunatic it’s better to just deal with your nonstop chatter? Or is there a mute button?” He chuckled.
“Ah, not only competitive, but so mean too.” There was a tone of hurt in the AI’s voice, the slight metallic clang of it making it sound over-dramatic and funny. A little like that one robot in those vintage sci-fi movies. But then W1bo continued, and its tone was back to perfectly neutral.
“I am only here to help you, Zhan-ge, please do bear that in mind. My guidance is optional, and as we are here to provide an optimal experience for you in your search for the perfect partner, please don’t hesitate to access the settings on the right to adjust my engagement level, volume and permissions. You are also able to change AI servers, if you would like to continue your journey with a different personality to guide you. We are fully customizable, for your convenience.”
Xiao Zhan frowned for a moment as he listened to what was clearly a predetermined speech acting like a manual. That— Was a lot less fun, a lot less charming. But entirely understandable.
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “That was rude of me.”
“There is nothing to apologise for, Zhan-ge, my work is to make this a positive experience for you. The settings section also allows you to—“
“I’m not changing you out,” Xiao Zhan interrupted. “Or actually muting you.”
W1bo stayed quiet.
“Just be your obnoxious AI self. It’s interesting.”
“Interesting.”
Xiao Zhan hummed. “I look forward to seeing how well you can figure me out from these, Waibo.”
“Perfectly, obviously. That is my specialty, what I was created for.”
He hummed again, raising an eyebrow. “And do you often deal with people deliberately dodging your attempts?”
“No, I do not.”
“Thought so. Now don’t go quiet on me, I was joking.”
“Okay,” the AI responded, and Xiao Zhan found himself smiling as he resumed the date scenario again.
The date went on for another half an hour or so, and though W1bo did continue the commentary, it seemed less than before, despite Xiao Zhan not adjusting any settings. But the AI was speaking, and making suggestions, and Yinhe was further fleshed out as a character as she did her job of pulling out information from Xiao Zhan. Eventually, the timer that had been hovering to his lower left pinged, pulling his attention from the girl.
“That’s the timer for the minimum length of dates to be considered completed. As such we’ll award you in-game credits and progress score on the road to your perfect match,” W1bo explained as on cue. “This also means you can now end the date in your preferred manner at any time, and it will be added to your stats. You can then find your date from the ‘partners’ menu at any time, would you like to give her a second chance.”
“I don’t think so,” Xiao Zhan said with a smile, and Yinhe looked at him in confusion.
“Hmm?,” she asked, fingers absentmindedly tapping the side of her cup in a very natural manner. She had a phone next to her on the table, a quite dated model, but it was lighting up every now and then, to make it seem like she had a life outside this virtual moment.
He shook his head and smiled.
“Nothing at all. As lovely as this is, I think I do have to head home soon.”
There was a short moment of visible disappointment on her face, and then it disappeared, covered by a warm smile.
“It has been very lovely! Let me give you my contact details in case you would like to meet again.”
Ever polite, and terrible at saying no even to artificial humans, Xiao Zhan nodded. When he lifted his phone he noticed that it looked quite a lot like hers, its visuals changed by the game to match the world they were in. And when he held it out, and she put hers close, he could hear a pinging noise as her details were registered in his log-book. Was that necessary to be able to go on further dates? Did they need to succeed well enough that the virtual character was interested in proceeding too?
That made him wonder what would make a date fail. He was curious, but he had a feeling he would have too hard a time not being nice, even to virtual pretend-humans, to ever find out.
And as soon as they had walked out of the cafe again, back onto the busy street packed with blurry shapes of people milling about, Yinhe said a friendly goodbye and headed off into the crowd. And that was that, Xiao Zhan had completed his first date within the game.
So the UI also wished to tell him, a large DATE★COMPLETE message in that terrible font from the box art floated in the air in front of him, accompanied by an energetic and positive-sounding jingle. The tackiness was exquisite, it was so bad it was good and Xiao Zhan could only appreciate the dedication to keep such dated elements in the game even to this day. No wonder the packaging looked like it did.
“Congratulations, Zhan-ge! Your first date, tell me, how do you feel?,” W1bo spoke then, its voice cutting through all the white noise sound-effects clearly and loudly, a big contrast to how Yinhe had sounded just a moment ago.
“Thank you. It was alright. Isn’t it more important whether it benefitted you?”
“Any information about you benefits me, Zhan-ge. Now if you select the complete button over there on the right, there’s a short satisfaction survey. That’s the last step to formally completing your first date!”
Xiao Zhan hummed, but followed W1bo’s instructions. The button grew into a pop-up window in front of him as he waved over it. It was a simple rating where he was supposed to give the date one to five hearts in three different categories: attractiveness, personality and connection. He looked at it for a moment, almost a little offended on behalf of his first virtual date— to be reduced to three simple stats like this.
But at the same time, if he was to get the most accurate results out of this (because this was still all about learning as much as possible about the game), he would also need to be truthful. And while she’d been nice, lovely, probably wonderful— she was more someone his mum would have wanted to see him bring home than anyone Xiao Zhan would actually have found himself drawn to. Something he’d never really put into words for himself, quite like that.
And so he found himself giving her a score of 2-2-1, before waving confirm.
“Zhan-ge!,” W1bo’s voice rang in his ears. “Was she really so bad?!”
He smiled.
“No, she’s lovely. Just not my type.”
“Well, the next one will be better! And then the next, I will figure out what makes you tick.”
Xiao Zhan leaned back on his sofa, making himself comfortable as his eyes scanned the different menus and options available in front of him while W1bo spoke. Mini-games. Daily tasks. This was clearly meant to draw you in.
“Of course you will,” he said, clicking into some of the options, finding a photobooth function. It required either moving to next to the VR station or having a separate camera installed. “You are the best AI in the world after all, are you not? How could humble little me ever stay a mystery to you for long?”
He could have sworn the AI sputtered. If such reactions were coded into it, they’d truly thought of everything.
“What a change of tone, Zhan-ge! You confuse this poor system. Will you confuse your future dates, too?”
“Hmmm, maybe?”
“Well I suggest you go on another one, as that would further your progress a notable amount!”
Xiao Zhan glanced down at the time on his phone screen. The lit up numbers read 21:47. Hmm, he could do one more before sleep, he guessed. He couldn’t help but feel a little curious as to what W1bo would serve him next.
“Okay, let’s go for one more,” he agreed, and waved open the date menu.
“That’s the spirit!,” W1bo exclaimed, and then Xiao Zhan’s surroundings changed again. This time he was in the lobby of a rather expensive-looking restaurant, and as soon as he stepped forward an impeccably dressed waiter met him, gesturing him inside.
“Mr. Xiao, please, this way, I will lead you to your companion.”
He nodded, and then whispered ‘fancy’, hoping W1bo would understand it was directed at it. The AI did.
“Do you like fancy, Zhan-ge? Is this your style?”
“Not particularly,” he commented, voice still low as the waiter led him past several tables, towards a corner. “But a man can be curious, can’t he?”
“Of course, of course, only curious.”
W1bo sounded… pleased? Self-satisfied? Xiao Zhan raised an eyebrow, a smile pulling on his lips as the waiter finally gestured to his table. There, already seated, was a fully suited up, very tall looking man. His hands were crossed on the table in front of him. He hadn’t looked in Xiao Zhan’s direction yet, but he wore glasses, and his hair was just long enough to slide behind his ears. He looked to be about Xiao Zhan’s own age, or a little older. And … well, rich. Well then. He quickly waved the pause button.
“Ohh, so you didn’t assume I’m straight.”
“It’s 2031, Zhan-ge,” W1bo responded in a dry tone. “And I’m coded to analyse, not make assumptions.”
“Hmmm. Well you analysed right. One point to you.”
“Are we keeping score?”
“Would that be fair? How could I, a mere human, ever win?” He was smirking now, and in no hurry to return to the date with the probable businessman.
“Ah, but you could, I’m sure, Zhan-ge.”
He hummed, then decided to go for it, amused curiosity still driving him. “So tell me, Waibo, what else does your analysis tell you about my sexuality?”
“The probability that you identify as bisexual is 69%.”
“Sixty— You just made that up,” he exclaimed, pointing into the air accusingly. He found himself wishing the UI had some form of… character for the AI, a face to direct his words to, even if it was just a still image.
“Got me there, Zhan-ge,” the AI responded, with humour in its voice. “But I am not wrong, am I?”
“...no, no you’re not. Your assumption is right.”
“Ah, you wound me, Zhan-ge, I determine everything by careful analysis! Hard work!”
“Whatever makes you feel better,” he threw back with another smirk, and waved the resume button, leaving W1bo to make noises that sounded an awful lot like sputtering again.
“Ah, there you are!,” the man spoke as soon as Xiao Zhan got one step closer, and got up from his seat offering his hand for a handshake. “It is so nice to finally meet you!”
Xiao Zhan nodded, dumbfounded, as the man held his hand in both of his. He really was tall. Taller than Xiao Zhan. Which was… rare, to say the least.
“How rude of me! Please sit, please sit,” the man said, finally letting go of his hand and instead walking around the table to hold out the chair there. Xiao Zhan sat down without a word, a little taken aback by the enthusiasm of this man he did not even know the name of yet.
Nor did he ever find out. The man talked a lot, engaging Xiao Zhan in conversations about topics he knew very little about. On the business side he was able to participate through what running his own design studio had taught him, but it was clear this man had more money in the game than that. Yet he was never snobby about it, nor did he come off like he was trying to brag. It was more like he wanted to share. They were served virtual dishes that looked like they belonged in a Michelin restaurant, and a waiter would refill his date’s wine glass whenever it reached below half-full. The man would smile brightly at them, and then at Xiao Zhan, encouraging him to indulge.
And the suit? Definitely tailored to fit him perfectly, and despite the slight uncanny valley of the game graphics Xiao Zhan could easily admit the man was hot. He had definitely never been on a date quite like this in real life.
But again, he knew he would have been unlikely to want more, even if it had been reality. The man felt unreal in a strangely real way. Too spotless, too kind, too attractive— too perfect. Xiao Zhan liked when people allowed themselves to be human, and though of course the front someone would put up on a first date wasn’t a good indicator for how anyone really was, he couldn’t help but find it too fake.
He could appreciate this date though, visually if anything. Though he did his best to be subtle about it, to not give too much away to W1bo. That game was still on.
And through it all, W1bo was surprisingly quiet, barely commenting on his choices and actions.
Eventually, the date came to a quite natural end, as the waiter asked if they’d like dessert, and both responded with a ‘no’. Xiao Zhan smiled at the still nameless man, and he smiled back. They exited together, and there, outside this fancy restaurant, in the glittering lights of a dark street, he was hugged by his virtual date.
The moment the man left, he looked down at his hands, before waving over the completion buttons.
“Hey, Waibo,” he started, staring at the same short survey he had received at the end of the previous date.
“Yes, Zhan-ge?”
“Oh, you are still there, I thought you might have fallen asleep on me.”
“AIs don’t sleep, Zhan-ge.”
“Hmm, so what happens if you’re turned off?”
“...I’m turned off.”
Xiao Zhan let out a small huff of laughter at the deadpan response. He’d always appreciated self-aware computer systems. Though much more simple, his home system was the same. “I’m a glorified smart speaker, not your mother,” it’d say, and he’d call it ‘mum’ for at least three days. Then he’d invited colleagues over, and she’d called him baobao in front of them when he’d requested music. Somehow, he got along well with computer systems.
“Anyway, just now, he hugged me, but obviously I only felt it through my gloves. How do— people who end up finding their partner through you handle that?”
“Ohh, already considering the future, are you?”
Xiao Zhan snorted. “You wish.” He quickly pressed in the score 3-2-1 into the survey, admitting that he did find the man attractive and swiping it away to get the DATE COMPLETE message across the room again.
“They use body suits. We’re compatible with a wide range of sensory equipment from most of the larger manufacturers. It can easily be turned into a full-body experience for you.”
He coughed, and shook his head quickly. “I’ll pass on that, thank you very much. Hands are enough.”
“I’m sure they are, Zhan-ge.”
He gaped, eyebrows raised. No, no— It was almost 11 PM and now the AI was starting to pull suggestive jokes at him, it for sure was time to close down the game.
“Aaaand I think that’s where I log out,” he said with a laugh, and W1bo almost whined.
“Already, Zhan-ge? Ah, I guess you do need your beauty sleep. Stay pretty for all the future dates I have lined up for you!”
He nodded, yawning as the day finally caught up with him. Wow, he’d really spent the whole evening on this game. It had been very educational, and he was— admittedly excited to give it another go sometime soon. To see where W1bo would lead him next. What W1bo would figure out about him from tonight’s data.
“Mmm, yeah, I’m heading off. Good night, Waibo,” he said. The last thing he heard before he’d waddled over to the VR station and pressed the power button was an almost surprised sounding ‘good night, Zhan-ge’.
These two dates probably gave him enough experience to start brainstorming for the project tomorrow. He’d have to talk to Lulu, see if she had received her copy yet. Compare experiences, throw around some ideas. They had plenty of time to work on this still, but it was never too early to start. And that would give him more time to play around and test the game. Maybe over the weekend, he thought as he climbed into bed some moments later. He’d been so sceptical, and he still was, but he’d had a good time so far.
The AI really was that good, huh.
★★★
A surprise project with a short deadline took up the majority of his time for the next few days, putting any planning for the re-branding of the game on hold. Sudden, urgent jobs were hectic and rarely particularly inspiring, but they paid well due to the additional charges for a quick delivery. At least this small brand client, who had found themselves in the middle of a plagiarisation scandal, was eager to get everything cleared up, and as such very easy to work with. Xiao Zhan liked that.
This also meant that he would come home late, hungry and exhausted, and find little time for much else than staying alive. The older he got, the more these sudden bouts of overwork affected him, but there was still a strange sort of excitement in giving his all for efficient and quick design. It was probably the kick of achievement he got out of it, once everything was completed and finalised.
Xuan Lu would simply tell him he was romanticising overwork and that he must be the literal definition of a workaholic— getting a kick out of working too hard. He knew she was most likely right, but it had worked in his favour all through setting up the design studio and gaining steady business. And in his defense it was only occasionally— most of the time he worked somewhat normal hours.
“Zhanzhan, have you slept at all?,” she asked now, from across their steaming boxes of takeaway noodles, a Tuesday tradition that this week had been pushed back all the way to Friday.
“Of course I have,” he said quickly, and she looked at him in that way that showed exactly how little she believed him. “I have, I promise! It’s more like that’s the only thing other than work I have done,” he explained with a soft laugh. She hummed.
“I just sent off the proofs for a final approval though, so it looks like I might actually get to have a weekend.”
“Imagine that,” Lulu said, raising her eyebrow in disbelief as she lifted some noodles to her mouth. “Any plans then, for your freedom?”
Xiao Zhan shrugged, chewing a large mouthful before answering. “Not really, I might just do some more research for that game rebranding. We really should get properly started on that next week.”
“Zhanzhan— that’s work.”
“Oh, no— I mean, I got my sample of the game! Tried it once, earlier this week. Thought I’d give it another go. It will help with work but it’s not actual work, you know.”
Lulu still looked like she didn’t buy that one bit, but even so a smile crept onto her lips.
“You’re playing the dating sim.”
“I mean— Not really, I’m just testing, learning.”
“You are playing the dating sim.”
“I— Yeah, I figured it would be good to try it. And it was pretty fun actually. You should try it too.”
“My copy came to the studio, but I’ve not looked at it yet,” Lulu said, pushing her mostly empty food container away and wrapping her hands around her coffee mug. “But tell me! Did you go on any dates yet? How were they?”
He gave up on his own noodles too, reaching for his large tea mug instead. It was still so hot that he needed to blow on it before taking careful sips.
“Hmm, two. They were alright, quite generic to be honest, but I have a feeling Waibo will have me figured out in no time, even though I was being deliberately tricky.”
“Waibo?,” she asked over the rim of her cup.
“Oh … the AI. It introduced itself as W1bo-805, so I ended up calling it Waibo. It’s a funny one, I can see why their AI is so famous. I’m quite curious to see what it ends up conjuring up for me next.”
“And if it creates someone who hits all your spots? Would you consider a virtual relationship?”
He laughed. “No. No, that’s not for me. I’m just curious about the process.”
Lulu gave him yet another one of those ‘whatever you say, Zhanzhan, whatever you say’-smiles, and he groaned. “I swear! I don’t want a virtual boyfriend or girlfriend or anything!! I just— Had a lot of fun bickering with the AI. It fascinates me. There’s nothing more to it. I swear. I’m not going to suddenly get myself a VR partner.”
She laughed and reached out to pat his hand before finishing up her coffee and stacking the empty takeaway containers. There was a twinkle in her eye as she got up, making herself ready to go back to work. “Of course not, Zhanzhan, but I expect a full record of your progress on Monday!”
He groaned dramatically, but was no longer able to suppress a grin as he gave her a quick nod. He loved her so much.
★★★
The can of beer clicked in that satisfying way when he popped it open, grabbing a small bag of Lays on his way back to the living room. He’d received an acceptance message from their client just before close of business, and there was ample reason to celebrate a successfully completed rush project. He’d been tempted to join his team for their night out, but he knew he would regret it the following day. He was too drained already, and any partying, no matter how relaxed, would only prolong the recharge.
He’d promised to join them the next time instead, and he found himself looking forward to that. Tonight was for relaxing with one single beer on the sofa at home in the company of himself. And maybe some AI.
He huffed at himself as he turned the VR system on and reached for the headset and gloves. Lulu would definitely laugh at him if she knew (which she would on Monday, he was sure), but it didn’t feel much different to streaming a movie or playing an RPG. Things he did. Sometimes.
The already familiar UI loaded around him, asking him to log in. The logo was still horrendous and he couldn’t wait to replace it. Once the menus were loaded and he saw all his progress from four days ago, he instantly waved over the ‘connect’-button. It took a moment this time, the ‘connecting’ message floating around above him as he waited. Maybe Friday nights had a lot of traffic. It would make sense, people would want to have dates then.
A couple of minutes had passed when he finally heard a loud ‘ping’, and the full list of options became available in the menu.
“Zhan-ge! Welcome back,” W1bo’s familiar, metallic voice called out right away, and Xiao Zhan found himself smiling.
“Miss me?,” he asked with humour in his voice.
“Yes,” the AI responded right away, and Xiao Zhan smiled in disbelief, taking a sip from his beer before speaking again. Cold and refreshing.
“You say that to all your players, I’m sure.”
“Not all of them are as fun a challenge as you are right from the start, Zhan-ge!”
“So you admit I’m a challenge?,” he asked with a smirk.
“Not one I can’t overcome.” W1bo didn’t even miss a beat with its response. His? The voice was definitely coded to sound male but Xiao Zhan wasn’t sure if AI had any sort of gender identity. “Are you here for another date, Zhan-ge?”
He hummed in response and nodded.
“Great! That will help us progress. I have analysed the data of your first two dates in your downtime and created some future possibilities. I have two to choose from for you now, I thought I would leave which one to use up to you.”
“Are you making me do your work for you?,” Xiao Zhan grinned and flopped lower on the sofa, sipping his beer again and reaching for the bag of crisps he’d dropped on the table.
“The work has already been done, this is just for fun.”
“Fun. Well. I don’t mind some fun tonight. What do I need to choose?”
“I knew I could count on you, Zhan-ge!” W1bo sounded… excited. Xiao Zhan wondered if the AI had had this much personality written into it from the start, or if it had developed through all the artificial learning it had gone through over the years. Or perhaps it was a combination of both? A coded personality that had then been shaped by all the people it had helped find love over the last decade.
He found himself wondering about all the data stored somewhere, all the history of people’s emotions and tastes. An archive of private experiences that all together had educated this digital awareness that Xiao Zhan chose to spend his Friday evening with. It was both a little terrifying and deeply fascinating.
“We’ll play rock-paper-scissors. If I win, we go with the safer option, and if you win, we take the riskier one.”
Xiao Zhan raised an eyebrow. “How can I beat someone I can’t see? That’s unfair.”
“I can have my choice shown in text form on the UI at the exact moment we count for.”
Xiao Zhan hummed, thinking it over. “You’re a computer, you’ll win.”
“Ah but Zhan-ge, it’s a game of chance!”
Xiao Zhan knew that was far from the truth, it wasn’t that even between humans, and here he was— playing against artificial intelligence. But he didn’t really have anything to lose, despite knowing that W1bo would win. And if W1bo won, they’d go with the safer option?
No, if this was to be a challenging game—
“Okay. I’ll play, but swap the stakes.”
“What?”
“If you win, we take the riskier one.” He grinned again, and took another large sip of his beer.
“Oh,” W1bo said, and then fell silent for a surprisingly long moment. “Okay, whatever Zhan-ge wants.” He sounded unsure, and Xiao Zhan wondered when he’d become able to read so much emotion into machine generated voices. The feeling was gone as quickly as he’d heard it, as W1bo proceeded to explain the set-up for the rock-paper-scissors.
“You can do the counting so you know I can’t cheat. My choice will show in the dialogue box in front of you when it’s time.”
“Okay.”
As expected, he lost, his scissors crushed by W1bo’s perfectly timed rock. But it didn’t feel like a loss— No, he was excited to give whatever W1bo had lined up a go, and the beer he’d mostly finished by now was warming him up delightfully. It probably had some to do with just how eager he was as well, but W1bo didn’t need to know that.
“Okay, I’m ready,” he said, a chuckle in his voice. “Show me what you’ve cooked up.”
“I can still change to the more likely one, Zhan-ge.”
“Why? You won fair and square, did you not?”
“Yeah.” A pause, and then W1bo continued. “As you wish, Zhan-ge, just wave the start button any time. I’ll be here if you need me, as usual.”
Xiao Zhan waved his hand around generally at first, then hit the start button. Not knowing what kind of situation would be involved, he took the chance to finish the last few sips of his beer as the date loaded.
Then he was outside, in a park, and there seemed to be some sort of a large gathering off to one side. Most likely a concert, based on all the loud noise and music that was getting clearer as the setting finished loading around him. There were people everywhere, walking, running— or just sitting on the grass, most of them turned towards whatever the music event was.
Xiao Zhan looked around, trying to spot someone with a quest marker over their head, but he didn’t catch anyone at first glance. He frowned and started walking down the path to take a look closer to the gathering. At least whoever his date was should be easy to spot with the marker—
At that moment someone swooshed right past him on something fast, turned and stopped in front of him, so close up into his space.
“There you are!,” exclaimed a young-looking boy with a wide grin. His hair was bleached into an uneven orange, tied back into a messy, short ponytail and his lanky body was covered in a loose t-shirt and shorts. In one hand he held the skateboard he must have just rolled in on, and in the other a plastic bag with something heavy in it. “Come on, we need to find somewhere to sit before we miss all the best parts.”
And so, Xiao Zhan was dragged along onto the grass by this … kid. As soon as they’d stopped and the boy let go of Xiao Zhan’s hand to sit down, he waved the pause button.
“Waibo, how old is this kid supposed to be?”
“Oh, early twenties?”
“Really. Okay.” Well, that was a relief. Not that the age of virtual characters should really matter. Suddenly, he realised the potential the game had for relationships that wouldn’t be considered okay… or even legal in the real world, and quickly shut that train of thought down. “That’s fine. So, do you consider my preference to be men now?”
“No, it is likely there will be future dates with other genders. I don’t assume.”
Xiao Zhan chuckled at the reference to their previous conversations, feeling almost fond.
“This is quite the change from that businessman before. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t a skater boy twink.”
“I did say risky, Zhan-ge.”
“You did! Well, let’s see what he’s got,” he responded, and resumed the date.
It was certainly an interesting date. They sat on the grass, chatting and sipping cheap beers, the music and sounds of people enjoying themselves a surprisingly pleasant background. The young man was energetic, and even the slightest hint of a question about him or his interests would set him off on a long explanation. He was passionate, and he seemed eager to please, eager to be something Xiao Zhan would be interested in. It showed in the way he looked at him, the way he demanded attention, and the way he provided detailed beginner-level explanations for topics Xiao Zhan quite frankly had zero interest in. Xiao Zhan felt like a fish out of water in his company, unsure what else to do but let the boy ramble on about skateboards, about tricks he’d done and ones he was practicing, about music artists Xiao Zhan had never heard of— gesturing wildly and using words that made Xiao Zhan feel far older than he was.
He understood why this was what W1bo had considered ‘more risky’, it certainly felt like a very odd choice to him, and he found himself wondering what exactly W1bo was getting out of this. What kind of information it provided him for the future, other than perhaps what Xiao Zhan didn’t match that well with. Of course he answered most of the young man’s questions, and those responses would provide W1bo with further basic information about him. Things like favourite artists, songs, what bands he knew, what bands he didn’t know. That he preferred reading and painting to physical hobbies, despite putting value in staying fit. That he was, well, far too much of a nerd for this date.
And this time W1bo provided zero suggestions along the way. The AI simply stayed quiet. Almost a pity, Xiao Zhan had enjoyed the flowing commentary and silly suggestions. Maybe this silence was part of whatever experiment W1bo was doing here.
Then finally, the minimum length timer pinged, and Xiao Zhan succeeded in excusing himself. The young man looked disappointed, but Xiao Zhan watched him melt into the crowd towards the stage instantly, surrounding himself with other people, greeting them, connecting.
So Xiao Zhan waved the finish button and filled out the satisfaction survey, W1bo still silent in his ears. 2-1-1, he picked, and as soon as he waved complete again, W1bo’s voice rang out.
“Ahhh, Zhan-ge! Such low numbers again— Was he really that bad?”
“He was… not what I expected, for sure,” Xiao Zhan answered thoughtfully, now very curious as to what the ‘safe’ option would have been.
“I quite like being unpredictable, but I was hoping for slightly higher scores here. Ah, you really are difficult to satisfy, Zhan-ge.” W1bo’s voice was over-dramatic, but Xiao Zhan could swear he heard a note of disappointment.
“I guess he was cute, that’s why I gave him a two there.”
“Cute?!,” W1bo responded right away, surprise in voice. “I thought he would be considered ‘cool’.”
A laugh bubbled up inside Xiao Zhan.
“No Waibo, I’m quite certain whatever that boy was counts as cute. Who even says ‘cool’ these days, are you due for a vocabulary patch? No wait, that guy’s way of speaking was definitely of this day and age, I felt so old Waibo, so old!”
“But Zhan-ge isn’t old! I have analysed your photo, you could pass for someone much younger. Very handsome.”
“Ahh wow, an AI finds me attractive, I have won the gene lottery, truly.” He let sarcasm drip from his voice, but inside he was chuckling, enjoying this banter much more than he had the date.
“Am I not the best out there at analysing people, Zhan-ge? And men only get more handsome as they age, you have the best ahead of you!”
“And now it's flirting too, what am I going on these dates with uninterested virtual characters for when the AI itself likes me the most!” He laughed and sank back into the sofa, reaching for that bag of crisps again. He’d already munched several, when he realised that W1bo had been quiet for a moment. He frowned, and then finally W1bo spoke again.
“So I can find your perfect match, of course. That would not be an AI like me!”
He laughed, still warm inside from the beer and genuinely entertained by the game.
“It’s not any virtual character you can create either, but I am having a lot of fun.”
“That’s good, Zhan-ge. That counts.”
“Mm, it does. But now I should log out and sleep. One date was enough for tonight.”
“Of course, Zhan-ge. Good night.”
“Good night, Waibo.”
★★★
The rework of the graphical appearance of Perfect★Match and its marketing was easily one of the largest jobs Xiao Zhan’s little studio had ever gotten. A large part of it was drawing up concepts, as any actual designs for the game itself would then be further worked through and implemented by the company’s own UI team. Then, once all that was settled on and in work, Xiao Zhan’s team could proceed with all the new, matching marketing material.
So it started simple, with colour palettes and theme keywords, and a lot of dialogue with the in-house marketing department of the company. If one person could be called a department.
It was surprisingly inspiring for Xiao Zhan, and he found himself doodling ideas even when at home, letting his mind draw inspiration from the couple of times he himself had dived deep into the game. At other times, a large part of his time was still spent doing research, as he was only one very new and very reluctant user— He wanted analytics and history. He wanted to know what he was working with. He was never one to not go in with everything he had. That was why he’d tried the game in the first place.
Over the weeks after that experimental Friday night date, W1bo had sent him on a handful of other dates with characters of various genders. All had felt more likely than the skaterboy, yet he found himself no closer to giving any of them higher scores. Even the ridiculously hot doctor who looked like he came straight out of a poster from the golden era of K-pop was only given a score of 4-2-1. There had been nothing else than visual attractiveness to the man, alas.
And Xiao Zhan still wasn’t playing the game to find a date.
If he was to be completely honest with himself, at this point he was mostly enjoying the words exchanged with the AI. And the AI was the star of the game that he was supposed to market, so it didn’t feel like a waste of time. Not even the night he spent over two hours bickering about whether the librarian Xiao Zhan had walked out on minutes earlier had or had not been boring. It was one of those times their conversations turned almost heartfelt, and Xiao Zhan could almost forget he was talking to a computer system.
“But you like books, she lives for them! Imagine cozy nights, reading together!,” W1bo had said, and Xiao Zhan had laughed.
“She tried to give me a list of essential reading to understand her on the first date.”
“Opening up, making herself known, wanting you to know her!”
“Hmm, I think I prefer it when people are a little like an open book themselves. Honest.”
“Like yourself, then.”
“Are you saying I’m easy to read? And yet you haven’t found me a good date yet, Waibo!”
“No, but you are honest. And always kind to the virtual dates, even when I can tell you will give them a bad score.”
Suddenly an ominous thought struck him. “Waibo, don’t you dare send me on a date with a virtual copy of myself! I refuse!”
W1bo had laughed, a robotic yet warm sound ringing out inside Xiao Zhan’s head, and Xiao Zhan had laughed along with it. What an incredible AI.
And there had been no copy of himself on any of the dates he was sent on the weeks following that conversation. Even as he was slowly becoming more generous with his assessments, even giving W1bo some comments and thoughts about the partners as they chatted for long whiles after the DATE★COMPLETE message disappeared. The second time a date (a girl this time) mentioned skateboarding as a hobby, he asked W1bo what made the AI think he’d match well with that specific sport, but W1bo hadn’t provided an answer, simply deflected, claiming it seemed to be a common thread in his character archive.
Xiao Zhan had shrugged and not dug further, even though he was fairly certain he had surpassed the stage of stock characters. The list in his DATE★JOURNAL kept growing as the weeks passed, but not a single one received a second chance. He’d spend his days at work thinking about this game from morning to afternoon, working hard on the re-branding project— and then he’d go home, and still want to log in to the game several times a week. It was oddly relaxing to wind down through comfortable banter with someone, or, well, something he knew didn’t actually hold any expectations of him.
He did notice some patterns, after that skateboarding revelation. Most of the dates were at least a few years younger than him, and another theme that would frequently appear was streetwear. Sneakers, caps, hoodies with large branded logos, and often there would be this quirky and retro feeling to the style. It seemed like the archive the AI pulled its designs from was quite dated. The result had its own charm, but again it made Xiao Zhan wonder where these patterns came from. Was W1bo reading something into him that Xiao Zhan wasn’t aware of himself? He’d never cared for these visuals at all, of course he’d wear comfortable joggers and hoodies like anyone but— When out in public he was much more of a shirts and sweaters kind of guy. He liked looking neat and well put together, and just a little artsy. It helped curate his professional image, something that felt important for his client facing job.
There were other examples that stuck out, too. Like the nonbinary mechanic who’d wanted to take Xiao Zhan on a ride on their motorbike. They hadn’t succeeded in convincing him. Even a virtual ride felt like more than Xiao Zhan could handle, despite being half a beer into the night. Afterwards, W1bo had asked why he’d declined so many times, nagged and nagged until Xiao Zhan had finally admitted to not even knowing how to balance on a normal bicycle and that he was scared.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Zhan-ge. Nothing can hurt you in here,” W1bo had said, and Xiao Zhan had laughed softly.
“Are you saying you’ll keep me safe?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re funny,” he’d mumbled, chuckling. “What could an AI do.”
W1bo had been quiet then, and it wasn’t until after Xiao Zhan had gotten up, said ‘good night’ and turned off the VR that he realised W1bo hadn’t responded.
★★★
Sometimes during intense work periods, group lunches doubled as team meetings. It was a good way to connect and compare progress for the whole four person team while eating together. They’d charge the food delivery to the studio’s account and spend much longer eating than on any other day, since it doubled as work in a way. Xiao Zhan loved the weeks they did that, and he loved being busy enough to have an excuse for it. It was fun, relaxing, and efficient.
“This is all looking great,” he said, browsing through the print-outs on the table, chopsticks still in his right hand. “Have they come back to us about the finalising of the logo design yet?”
“No,” Lulu responded. “But they’ve confirmed the colour theme so we can proceed. The UI team is working on adjustments based on what we sent them last week now, so that’s all under control.”
Xiao Zhan nodded. “Good, good. Are there any concerns the rest of us should be aware of?”
“Other than me struggling with coming up with charming words to say about the star of the whole show, not really,” Fengyi said, laughing. “I know the AI’s supposed to be this big selling point, but even like 30 dates in it never gets less annoying.”
“Annoying?,” Xiao Zhan asked, frowning.
“Yeahhh, it’s so pushy, never letting me take my time with the dates. And the suggestions it makes are always stupid. The dates are nice though, so I’ve enjoyed my research anyway,” he explained, laughing.
“Maybe you’re just being a difficult player,” Xiao Zhan quipped back, stuffing some greens into his mouth and swallowing them before elaborating. “The AI’s never annoyed me. Talks a lot, but it’s always nice. It makes the dates fun.” Funny how he’d thought he was the difficult one.
“Really?,” asked Liyuan, between sips of her coffee. “They really must have randomised personalities then, since mine barely ever says a spare word. Kinda cool, we should get that into the marketing.”
Xiao Zhan nodded in agreement, jotting it down on their list. His pen had barely left the paper again when Lulu elbowed him in the side.
“Still playing then?,” she asked in a low voice.
“Yeah. I am.”
“Are the partners getting more up your alley?”
He shook his head softly and smiled at her.
“Nah, mostly I’m just chatting with the AI, actually. It’s so set on finding my match it’s like we’re playing a game against each other. I’m having a good time with it.”
She leaned against him and patted his back.
“Oh Zhanzhan, are you that lonely?” Her voice was filled with humour and there was a sparkle in her eyes when he looked back at her. Always teasing him like that!
“I’m not lonely,” he responded with a pout, most likely convincing no one.
He wasn’t though, he really wasn’t. He’d felt much less alone over the last few weeks than he had in years. And that wasn’t because of any virtual dates— No, it was entirely because of W1bo’s companionship.That W1bo wasn’t real didn’t matter, Xiao Zhan had found a friend in that AI system.
A friend he was eager to spend a moment with as he wobbled in through his apartment door the following Saturday— or well, Sunday morning, the clock well past 3AM. That third drink had been nothing but a terrible mistake, but even so Xiao Zhan was warm and cozy, and even after hours of socialising he still wanted company. He wanted to sit out that last buzz in familiar, artificial company, before sleeping off the rest.
The VR station turned on at the press of a button, and the gloves and headset slid on like a second skin, familiar and part of him. He curled up on the sofa, feet tucked underneath him, and waited for the game to load up. But when it finally did, the metallic voice that greeted him was not W1bo.
“Welcome back, Xiao Zhan! Are you looking for a late night date?,” it asked, and Xiao Zhan frowned.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Cs3ung-805 and happy to guide you further on your journey to the perfect partner this lovely night!”
The voice and the words were unfamiliar, and confusion tinted with worry spread through Xiao Zhan.
“Where’s Waibo?,” he asked quickly, ignoring everything else the AI had said.
“Waibo? Oh— W1bo-805 is currently at full capacity, I’m afraid. We always ensure all our esteemed users get the highest quality experience, even during busier times!”
“Busy,” he questioned. “At 3AM?”
“Ah, we are a global company, mister. But all of the AI servers are equipped with all the same functions, and have access to all your date history in real time. I assure you your dating progress will be able to proceed as normal.”
But Xiao Zhan didn’t care about the dates or any of his progress, he’d just wanted to… Spend some time with W1bo.
“I’m— I’m good, thanks,” he mumbled, rolling up from the sofa and walking back to where the VR station was on his shelf. “I’m not really in the mood for a date tonight. Good night,” he said, and pushed the power button long enough to force shutdown the appliance.
He sighed once it beeped and the lights turned off, a sticky sense of disappointment pooling inside him, mixing unpleasantly with the buzz of alcohol in his blood. Somehow, he’d thought the AI personality he had been assigned would always be there, that W1bo was— a constant, a part of his account. But of course each AI server was running tons of games at the same time, of course no computer system could be limitless.
A virtual connection was no more reliable than a real, human one, and he should have expected no different. He shouldn’t expect anyone to always exist for him when he needed them to. Not even a computer system. He slapped his own cheeks three times, trying to get some sense back into his clouded mind, and sighed again. Going to bed sounded like a wonderful idea.
★★★
“Zhan-ge!,” W1bo’s familiar voice greeted him, and Xiao Zhan felt relief flood his body. A light hangover was still pulsing in his head, and the bowl of congee in his hand really did not want to go down his throat but— W1bo was back.
“You’re here,” he mumbled, hoping that the clear relief wasn’t obvious in his voice.
“As usual, I am, yes!,” W1bo responded, and Xiao Zhan abandoned his bowl on the table.
“There was a different AI here last night.”
“Oh! Ah yes, Zhan-ge, if you want to make sure your full journey is handled by me, then it’s best to stick to the same log-in patterns. At other times I’m often above capacity, and since you’ve already passed the new player criterias and should by default be close to achieving your perfect partner very soon, the system has assigned you a lower priority. Any AI personality would be able to guide you with all the data we already have prepared.”
“I don’t—,” he started, and then fell silent.
“You are of course a bit of an exception, Zhan-ge! Always so special. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. How did your date— Oh, you were only logged in for 2 minutes and 32 seconds? No date then?”
“I decided to go to bed in the end, sorry Waibo.”
“Not at all, Zhan-ge! Well, will you let me send you on one today?”
Xiao Zhan pondered it for a moment, staring at the now cold bowl of mostly untouched congee. Then he sat up a little straighter, ignoring the way his neck twinged from bad sleep.
“Yeah. I’m ready.”
“Trust me, Zhan-ge, this one will be great!,” W1bo’s voice spoke in his mind as the room around him blurred only to be replaced by a theme park landscape where everything was built out of Legos. And there, in front of him, stood a woman with short, dark hair and perfectly round, pouty lips. It was clear that this was to be no average cafe date, and Xiao Zhan’s head pounded at the mere thought. But she greeted him with a happy smile, and in the background W1bo kept encouraging him to try everything available in the park. It was strangely comforting. He could do it.
It was three days after that date that he, for the first time, simply sat with the game turned on as he ate his dinner. He pretended to be browsing the menus, looking at settings and the mini-game selection, but he wasn’t really paying them any attention. It was only an excuse to be logged in, and he felt incredibly silly for needing it. Who was there to judge him if he wanted to spend his Wednesday evening with an artificial intelligence? No one. Still, he felt ridiculous, even as W1bo chatted away, asking about his daily life, his work and his friends.
It made sense, the system would want to find out all this about him— to finally find dates he enjoyed more— but it didn’t feel like there were ulterior motives to it. W1bo’s tone was friendly and playful as usual, and it took every chance to complement ‘Zhan-ge’ for the most arbitrary things. Waking up early? Very disciplined. Going for runs before work? Dedicated and ‘probably very attractive’. Treating Lulu to coffee in the afternoons? Kind and caring.
“Anyone would be lucky to have you as their partner, Zhan-ge! It is probably good you are being this selective,” W1bo had said finally, and Xiao Zhan had felt a blush spread over his face, as he’d stuttered through weak words of denial. The usual defense of ‘ah, but I am but a mere human in the presence of a perfect AI’ had tasted strange in his mouth, dry and bitter, and sticking to the walls of his mouth, as if unwilling to leave. But he forced them out together with a soft laugh.
“Oh no, Zhan-ge is much better than I could ever learn to be.”
It was... difficult, realising that you were falling for a nameless AI, that not even a full-body VR suit would ever let you engage with beyond the game’s constraints. No matter how eager Xiao Zhan had been to beat it at its own game, in the end he was the one who’d been played. The realisation that this was what had happened lodged itself inside him, and as days passed —sometimes with dates, sometimes without— spending his last waking hour with the AI became a bittersweet routine. As became the whispered ‘goodnight, Waibo’.
It was silly, stupid, it had no future, and eventually he’d have to figure out what to do with himself. But for now, at least for as long as the work project was ongoing, he could let himself simply enjoy it. He could let Lulu tease him endlessly, he could defend the AI at work, write copy praising it, and brag about the copy to W1bo after work. He could laugh at the choices of partners he was given, and though he did in some weak moments wish he could go on one of those dates with W1bo, W1bo’s presence as it was was enough. Because no matter what Xiao Zhan did with the game open, W1bo was there, keeping him company.
Until one day again, W1bo wasn’t there.
A couple of days had passed since Xiao Zhan had last had the chance to log in, the huge project so close to being finished now that he often barely returned home before midnight. Those days he would crawl directly into bed, too exhausted to think of any form of socialising, even with the AI. This night, however, Lulu had forced him out of the studio, telling him in a stern voice to get some rest. He’d not really found the energy to protest, and followed her order.
And as such, it was no later than he would usually log in on a weekday, yet what greeted him was another unfamiliar AI voice. Xiao Zhan frowned right away, and didn’t even take note of the name of this AI personality before asking “where’s Waibo?’
What followed was a similar explanation to what he’d been given last time— that W1bo’s capacity was filled elsewhere, and that this new personality would be eager to guide him along on his journey. And Xiao Zhan was sure it would, and it would probably be just as great at it as W1bo ever would, since they were ultimately the same system. But Xiao Zhan still wasn’t here for those dates, for any journey to a perfect virtual partner.
He was— just here for W1bo.
So he sighed, thanked the AI for the offer as he declined it, and turned off the VR station. Instead, he found himself picking up a book, and sat curled on the sofa for the rest of the evening, letting beautiful words on paper occupy his mind. It worked in distracting him from the disappointment that nibbled at his insides.
It mostly worked the second day too, though the disappointment was slowly starting to morph into worry. Which was ridiculous, really— what was there to worry about? When there was capacity, Xiao Zhan was sure he would be able to connect to the AI-personality of his choice again. Because that’s all it was, a capacity issue, which, maybe he should take that up with the company? If they hoped to gain new players with this brand new look and marketing campaign, only a month or so from releasing, they probably should make sure they had the capacity for it? As it was now, the product felt unreliable. Although he guessed that for the majority of players it didn’t matter which server they connected you to, as long as your own date data was accessible. Which it always was. Most likely he was just letting a complete non-issue bother him. And reading was more relaxing than he had remembered.
The third time it was Cs3ung-805 again, and somehow Xiao Zhan found that strangely comforting, even in the absence of the personality he wanted to meet. The system wasn’t just throwing him new AI-personalities for the sake of it, if it would give him the same one again. (He had, of course, checked his settings, and they were still set to W1bo as ‘default AI personality’, so that would not really have made any sense, but Xiao Zhan couldn’t help but wonder.) Cs3ung-805, however, when Xiao Zhan asked him about W1bo, told him that W1bo’s server was likely going to be heavily occupied for a while, and that Xiao Zhan would do best in adjusting to another personality, if he wished to not stall on his journey to the Perfect Partner.
Xiao Zhan shook his head, sighed, and turned off the VR.
So he did, again, and again, and again. Because it was never W1bo’s artificial voice that greeted him when the VR loaded up. And then finally about a week later, as he double checked the settings on his account, the default setting had changed from W1bo to something else. Even as he instantly waved at it, scrolling through the list of options as quickly as he could wave his arm, W1bo was nowhere to be found. The option was simply gone. The worry inside him turned to desperation, to sadness, as he scrolled through the list one more time. But W1bo’s alias really was nowhere to be found.
After a moment of simply staring at the wall, unsure what to do with the tangled mess of feelings inside him for something so entirely intangible and now gone, he got up and grabbed his laptop. He walked to his bedroom and dropped flat onto his belly on his bed, laptop open in front of him.
He turned to the internet, looking for anyone who had had similar experiences with the game. But it turned out any posts about the AI itself were few and far in between among all the concerns about the actual date partners. For those, he could find plenty of distressing stories of loss leading to detailed guides on how to back-up the data to ensure you never lose your partner. But for the AI itself, he could only find a couple of discussion board posts where someone had similar questions to his own. And there were never any solutions, only other users wondering why they cared. ‘It’s just the AI, not what you’re there for’, one read, and Xiao Zhan felt a lump in his throat.
An aching loneliness settled inside him as he looked for hours for anything that could give him a hint as to what could be done. After the initial post findings, he tried the Company’s chat service as well, but they could provide no help as apparently there was nothing wrong with his account. All his account data remained intact, and he was free to ‘continue his journey’ at any time. That marked the first time Xiao Zhan had closed a customer service chat without thanking the person on the other end. And so he checked the list in his account, one more time, but W1bo still wasn’t there.
It hurt, but he felt like he shouldn’t let it hurt. There was never anything there, only data, an artificial voice, and growing attached to it had never been a great idea in the first place. But he had felt a real connection, no matter how not real W1bo was, and as such the feelings he was now going through were real. He missed W1bo, missed its companionship, the banter and even the compliments. He realised what a positive presence in his life that AI had become, and how motivating and energising it was, to have someone encouraging you without question. Even if that someone wasn’t human.
But weeks passed, and though he tried every now and then, he had no luck. W1bo was really gone. Lulu, the absolute blessing, made herself a more frequent presence in his life, making their lunches, coffee dates and dinners increase in frequency, and he was thankful. Once he told her what had happened, she stopped asking him about the dates, and that was a relief, though she would still smile at him in that way that made it clear she knew.
Knew that he was far too attached to a string of code that no longer existed.
The project wrapped up eventually, like all projects do, and the Company was more than happy with the final results. Xiao Zhan got to praise and spoil their whole small, tight-knit team to no end. It felt incredible, the sense of achievement filling them all with joy as they celebrated in a nice restaurant, and it pulled Xiao Zhan along. It was good.
But the project ended, and with that ended his connection to the game. And underneath all those positive feelings the longing still lingered.
It was okay. Xiao Zhan would be okay. He’d learned a lot from it, and if anything he would never find it in him to question people seeking virtual connections anymore. Perhaps they weren’t for him, but he had gotten to share those months with W1bo and it had affected him. W1bo had been in his life, and Xiao Zhan believed that, given a bit more time, he could see it as something wholly positive. He didn’t regret taking the deep dive into the game for even one moment.
Other projects came and went, and the pile of books that Xiao Zhan had since made his way through had grown tall. The VR set sat on his shelf, untouched since his final try. A glance at a calendar could tell him that some six months had passed, but Xiao Zhan wasn’t keeping track.
The morning sun was shining brightly through the small window in his living room, and his congee was just the right texture. He had a meeting with some new clients set up a bit later, so he still had to get dressed neatly, but he was taking his time with breakfast, scrolling the news on his phone. A morning just like any other, in a comforting way.
And then one headline caught his eye.
AI fraud: Creators of acclaimed dating sim Perfect★Match exposed to be using exploited human workforce as ‘artificial’ intelligence
His phone slid out of his hand and onto the table with a heavy thud, as it felt like his heart stopped beating. He took one shaky breath, and then let his eyes fall back down onto the article, still open on the screen of his phone.
But it hadn’t changed. He had read it right the first time. And it could— It could only mean one thing. One thing that made a mixture of horror, shame, guilt and hope explode inside him.
W1bo was real. All that time, Xiao Zhan had been speaking to an actual human being.
★★★
The noise from the race track could be heard clearly even through his closed window, but Wang Yibo had long since gotten used to it. Now, it was almost comforting, a reminder each morning that this was his reality now, and that hopefully he was here to stay.
Yibo had been scared when he first left. Scared that they’d find him and make him pay for his massive breach of contract; but it had all been mostly irrational, it was not like they had any way of finding him. It was not like he was the first to ever leave. He was lucky, though, and he knew that. He was lucky to have befriended someone as kind as Zheng-ge during his rare days off, and that Zheng-ge had offered him a space here. Yibo knew just how lucky he was, and he took none of it for granted.
Chewing the last bite of his banana, he threw the peel into the plastic bag hanging off the handle of a cabinet. He didn’t have a proper trash can yet, even after nine, ten months or so, but it was fine. The room was small and sparsely decorated, but it was more than enough for him. He got up from his chair, pulled on his hoodie and stepped into the tiny bathroom to look into the mirror.
He looked okay. Good, even. He liked what working outside in the sunlight did to him, it made him look healthier than he had ever felt in his life. And he’d managed to sleep enough recently that even the dark circles were gone. His hair was a mess, of course, but it didn’t matter— he’d push it down and wear his usual cap anyway, to make sure no one saw the scars on his temples.
He had been scared when the news dropped — when the Company had been exposed. Zheng-ge had come into the garage, called his name and shown him the articles on his phone, getting Yibo to read them. Every word had felt like needles being pushed into his skin, and the lingering headache from all the sensory overload came back in full force. He had needed to sit down, and Zhen-ge had held him steady as he just breathed for a moment. He was scared, because now people would know he existed. Scared that he would be sought out, asked to make statements, or that he might run into any clients that would somehow recognise him.
Now that photographs of the "victims" were all over the media, showing the typical scarring from where the neuro-connectors had been inserted into their heads, it wouldn't be difficult for people to figure out what he was, what he'd done. People could take one look at him and know. And he knew so much about so many people, who at the time had had no idea they’d been talking to a human being. Had it been Yibo who had been betrayed that way, he would be upset, too. Perhaps he wouldn’t be the type to want any kind of payback, but Yibo had seen the worst in people. He knew some of their clients would stoop that low.
Even before the reveal, Yibo had accidentally run into a few players he had recognised. Of course, they would never have recognised him, but it always made him feel sick, and it always brought him nightmares.
There was only one player that he selfishly wished he could meet someday, but... He’d left suddenly and without explanation, and though Seungyoun had messaged him that Zhan-ge had asked for him, several times, Yibo knew there was no space for someone like him in that beautiful and kind man’s life. The friendship they’d shared for that brief time, that was enough. Yibo cherished it with his whole being, and he knew it was Zhan-ge’s presence that had made him dare to take the chance in the first place. Xiao Zhan just was that inspiring.
Yibo took a deep breath and pulled his black cap down over his head, shuffling his hair around so his temples were covered, and nodded at himself. He’d let his hair grow out since he left, to make sure the scars at the back of his neck also stayed covered, and maybe soon he could let it hang loose and manage without caps, too. He just liked the comfort of the fabric keeping his hair securely in place.
He didn’t want to be seen, because he didn’t want to be pitied.
One final look, this time with a smile, and then he pulled his sneakers on and headed out the door and down the stairs into the garage. He had a whole day of work ahead of him, and it was still exciting and filled with learning new things under Zheng-ge’s careful guidance.
He’d first met Yin Zheng some three years ago when, on one of his rare days off, he’d felt the need to get as far away from the Company building as possible. So he’d skated away, in any direction, from one district to another, just to go somewhere, not even thinking about the fact that he would need to find his way back before curfew.
He’d ended up at a large race track, where he’d leaned against the fence and just watched the racers zoom past at unbelievable speeds. It had looked amazing, incredible, and like everything Yibo had ever wanted to do. He’d then found an opening in the fence to get closer, and just sat down on the grass with his skateboard lying next to him and watched for hours. Watched as they raced, watched as they stopped for maintenance, watched as they stood around and chatted in their colourful leathers. It had looked a lot like freedom to him.
Eventually a shorter man in sunglasses had come his way, waving at him, and he’d flown off the grass and rushed towards the fence, even forgetting his skateboard. He’d barely made it there when the man had called out ‘won’t you need this?’ And he’d been forced to turn around sheepishly, ready to be told off for trespassing.
But all the man had asked was if he was interested in racing. Yibo had nodded. And so he had found himself skating all the way there, the whole journey of almost ninety minutes, nearly every time he had a free day. Sometimes that was just once a month, sometimes he made it twice, but as time passed he had made a friend in the older man who would indulge his interest and answer all his questions. Eventually he even got to ride behind Zheng-ge. That short ride had been the best he’d ever felt.
Yet he was made to pay for it with a vengeance; the wind and the pressure of the helmet made his ever-present headache hit so hard he nearly fell over once he got off the bike. Everything had been so bright and so loud, until Zheng-ge had caught his arm, helped him inside and sat him down. And once the world stopped spinning, the first details about his life made it past his lips.
The thing was, Yibo had never thought it was that bad. Granted, most people did not seem to work 28 fifteen-hour shifts per month, nor were they forced to live in dorms with similarly educated ‘specialists’. Nor were they constantly mentally exhausted from the sheer volume of data their minds processed each day, connected to computers to run several game instances at once.
But he had friends there, it was his home, and most of all— he was good at what he did. Among the best, in fact, and he took pride in that. There were so many people out there living emotionally fulfilling lives with their virtual partners all thanks to his work. It was creative and demanding, but also rewarding. And with all of them having been picked up when they were barely teenagers, with no other education than the one the Company had provided— it was not like he was good for anything else. This was his area of expertise.
So Yibo was happy enough with his life, but even the bare minimum of information about it had painted shock on Zheng-ge’s face. Yibo had waved away the concerns, and once he’d recovered enough, he’d returned back to the Company, just in time for curfew.
It had taken a long time, years even, before he was ready to consider anything else. And ironically, it wasn’t until he had gained something more to lose.
Yibo had handled hundreds of clients, sometimes up to ten at a time. Most of them were easy to run, as they were already deep into their journeys, only going on dates with their dedicated partners. At that point, the game mostly played itself, and the player created the scenarios themselves. That was easy. It was the new ones that required focus and creative input, but even then he would sometimes need to manage several such instances simultaneously.
He met so many people they all blurred together. He talked to them, learned about them and knew their inner desires in ways he really shouldn’t. He was there, present in the background, unable to abandon active instances even during the most intimate of scenarios. So Yibo had seen it all, and to all these people he was nothing but the data system that gave them what they had come for. As it was supposed to be. His clients sported high satisfaction scores, and it was due to that and his general success rate that he so often was assigned the new clients, and was made to pass on the older, more settled ones to his colleagues.
Yet there had been something different about this Xiao Zhan from almost the first moment he had connected to the game. Yibo wasn’t sure exactly when it had drawn him in, but very soon it had made him take risks he never had before. He’d started breaking protocols and hard set rules, just to get a little more of the man’s attention, even as his attitude towards the game and his refusal to enjoy it as it should be enjoyed quickly lowered Yibo’s score average.
Even when Xiao Zhan was acting rude, playing hard to get and deliberately withholding information from Yibo, he was strangely kind. It felt genuine, and real, and most of all it made Yibo feel like he wasn’t seen as just a piece of software. They had real conversations, and just within a couple of days Yibo had been reduced to someone reckless enough to create a virtual date thoroughly based on himself.
Even though it had hurt, in a way the clear rejection had been a relief. A cue to not mess around, to remember his place. To do his job. But Zhan-ge was no easy puzzle to solve, and the longer that went on, the more it had felt like the man was avoiding the dates.
And again that horrible sense of hope had crept inside Yibo, curled in his belly and spread its small tendrils up towards his heart. It was so much, and every time Zhan-ge said something that cut deep without knowing Yibo’s wish to be someone real, it became stronger.
The idea of leaving had always meant leaving his friends, his home, and the only job he knew how to do. Now it also meant losing his connection to Zhan-ge. But as Xiao Zhan showed genuine concern, genuine will to spend time with him, the lies started tasting bitter in Yibo’s mouth.
Clients came and went, and it was likely Xiao Zhan would too. But— If Yibo ever was to meet someone like him again, he wanted to do that on his own conditions, by his own rules. As himself. Real.
And so, on his next day off, Yibo had told Zheng-ge that he was planning to leave.
He knew fully well that his current job was not a position that had existed before his arrival, that Zheng-ge had pulled more strings for him than Yibo could let slide without feeling guilty. So he had decided to make the most of it, to make himself worth it. Mostly, the job was just running errands and assisting in garage work— simple tasks that could be done by anyone, and though he wanted to learn as much as possible, the physical nature of it had been a lot for him at first. And so he had also found his way into the paperwork. There, his trained mind had excelled, and the book-keeping was quickly put in better order than it had ever been during the fifteen years Yin Zheng had been running the track.
But the thing about working there was that Zheng-ge only gave him shifts five days a week, and none of them were longer than eight hours. This left him with so much free time, and his mind quickly grew restless even when his body was exhausted. His mind was used to handling such large amounts of information all at once, for such long times, and working to find and piece together the relevant hints to creative solutions, not just… resting. It was difficult.
And so, piles of massive jigsaw puzzles and ever more complicated second-hand Lego Technic builds had started to fill every corner of his little room. And books— He’d found that reading textbooks on anything that could help him in his work was a worthwhile pastime, especially during the nights when his mind just would not shut up and let him sleep.
But people get used to everything with time, and so did Yibo. Both to the way of life he had been subject to up until that night he hugged Seungyoun without a word and sneaked out the building right before curfew and the routine of his new life at the race track garage. It was good, better than good. Worth everything.
Downstairs in the garage there was coffee waiting for him in the coffee maker, and the metallic clunks coming from the other hall told him Zheng-ge was already there, working on something. For someone so adamant on Yibo not working ‘too much’, Zheng-ge was ever the workaholic himself. Yibo smiled, and poured himself a cup of slightly stale-smelling coffee. Today his list of tasks was mostly organisational, he had some papers to go through, and some cash and documents to take to the bank. That the garage still even accepted cash never ceased to amaze Yibo, who had barely seen any before in his life. But he had come to enjoy the weekly trips further into the center of the district, usually making them on his skateboard. It was quick and fun, and he could easily find the time to do some window shopping as well.
“Zheng-ge,” he called out, taking a sip from the coffee and making a face. It really did not taste good, but it felt like an existing routine he could be part of, something that the team here just did: drinking bad coffee over the course of their workdays. Yin Zheng hummed back at him, hands busy with some wires on one of the racing bikes, bolts and tools laid out in a neat system on the floor next to him.
“I’m heading down to the high street with the filing and the cash,” Yibo said, still feeling the need to let the man know what he was doing to make himself useful even though it was never requested. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Nah,” Yin Zheng said, reaching out for a pair of pliers just out of his reach. Yibo carefully nudged them closer with the tip of his foot. “We don’t have anything scheduled today after I’m done here, so take the afternoon off.”
Yibo frowned over another sip of his coffee. “Are you sure? I can—“
“Yibo. If anything does come up, I promise I’ll call you. Go have some nicer coffee for example, I can’t believe you’re actually drinking that.”
There was a stern kind of warmth to his voice, one that Yibo had never been able to say no to. So he nodded, even though Yin Zheng’s eyes were focused on the bike. “Okay. Thanks,” he said. “I’ll see you later, then.”
The hand that had reached for the pliers earlier waved at him, as if telling him to get out.
“If you’re back here before I’m gone for the day, I’m giving you Monday off, too.”
Yibo laughed, placing the now empty cup in the sink to the side. “Understood,” he shot back, grabbed the bag where he’d organised the files and cash and his skateboard and left.
It was a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly from a vivid blue sky, with only some clouds dotting it here and there. And Yibo felt good. Slipping in his headphones, he turned on some music and let himself roll down the side of the street, taking care to dodge cars and pedestrians. The journey was quick and smooth, and the errands completed more efficiently than ever, his slightly later-than-usual arrival time meaning the bank wasn’t overcrowded by old ladies as it usually was in the mornings. And so there he was, finally, outside of the bank with skateboard in hand and nothing to do for the rest of the day.
Once, that had felt daunting, but now he could already appreciate it— and Zheng-ge’s suggestion of getting a nice coffee sounded like a good idea. There was a skate cafe twenty minutes away that he’d often wanted to check out— It might not be the place to go for a properly nice coffee, but Yibo didn’t really care. He didn’t really like coffee anyway.
He dropped his board and stepped onto it, rolling off in the direction of the cafe. He was just picking up some speed when out of nowhere, a man quite literally flew out the underground exit and into his path. Yibo dodged as quickly as he could, but it wasn’t enough to avoid a collision that knocked him off his board. The skateboard rolled off ahead as he landed on his side. He then quickly pushed himself up on his hands and reached out for his cap that had fallen off his head in the tumble. He needed it back on his head right now—
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?,” said a frantic voice next to him and Yibo just nodded, quickly grabbing the cap and sitting up, face turned downwards.
“I didn’t mean to, gosh I was in such a rush I didn’t see you, can you stand?,” the man asked now, and there was something in his tone, in his voice, that sent Yibo’s heart racing. He needed to get up and leave. But a hand appeared in front of him to help him up, and Yibo had no choice but to look up, breath catching in his throat at what he saw.
Zhan-ge.
★★★
Crashing into someone was the last thing Xiao Zhan’s already hectic day needed, but that was exactly what happened the moment he exited the station nearest to the location of his client meeting. A meeting he was almost late for already. The boy on the skateboard had dodged well, and Xiao Zhan only took a small hit himself, but the boy had taken a fall. Fuck.
Xiao Zhan rushed the few steps over to where the boy was crawling onto his knees. When he apologised and asked the boy whether he was alright, the boy only nodded and sat up, holding on to his hat. It didn’t look like he’d taken any serious damage at least, probably some bruises underneath the jeans, but— skaters would expect that, wouldn’t they? Either way, Xiao Zhan was not one to leave before he’d made sure the kid was alright, even if it meant arriving a little late. Lulu was there already anyway, she’d handle it.
He apologised again, and asked whether the boy could stand, holding out a hand to help him up. As the boy turned to look at Xiao Zhan, however, he just… froze, lips parting as if in surprise. He looked shocked and almost scared, which did nothing to dispel Xiao Zhan’s lingering concern that he’d really hurt the guy somehow.
“Hey, let me help you up,” he repeated, holding out his hand still, gesturing for the boy to take it, but the boy didn’t move. His wide eyes stayed stuck on Xiao Zhan’s face and he looked like he’d stopped breathing. Was he shaking? Xiao Zhan frowned, getting genuinely concerned. He looked around quickly, eyes scanning through all the people milling about around them, to try and find a calmer spot to take the boy to. After a few seconds, he spotted a set of stairs off to the side, leading up towards a mostly empty side path. That’d do.
“Come on, let’s get you to those stairs over there,” he said, and made the decision to grab hold of the guy enough to help him up even without him taking Xiao Zhan’s hand. It wasn’t too hard, as the boy was very light for his height, and once upright, he let himself be led to the stairs without much support. Which made it clear he was physically okay.
Now he was biting his lip, looking anywhere except for at Xiao Zhan. But he was still trembling against Xiao Zhan’s side. And as he guided the boy to sit down on the stairs, his eyes caught sight of circular, white scars where his hair fell to the side by his temples. Oh.
Suddenly, a panic attack seemed more likely, or— any sort of trauma response even, if this boy was one of the victims of the Company’s actions. To think that he would crash into Xiao Zhan of all people, someone who’d worked for them, helped them be marketable— That was unlucky. But Xiao Zhan could make sure he’d get to have a moment to recover and be on his way safely at least. His conscience would allow no less.
“Sit here,” he said, and stood back up himself. “I’ll go grab your board, I’ll be right back.” The boy nodded wordlessly, looking down at the cap he was holding tightly. Maybe he wore it to hide the scars. Xiao Zhan would understand.
He’d read all the news of course, everything. All the long reports and in-depth analyses. And he knew he wasn’t the only one, with all the attention the case had gotten — people couldn’t believe it had been kept secret for so long. He knew most people would recognise those scars, because even though none of the ‘employees’ had been named or shown in the media, everyone had seen zoomed in photos of how the neuro-connectors had been stuck in place, and the scarring they would have caused over the long years of repeated use. It had gotten a lot of attention, because even though connecting mentally to computer systems was not exactly unusual in this day and age, the physical directness of their method was something that one didn’t normally come across outside of dated sci-fi horror. Many would recognise the scars at a good look, and with how much research (and wishful hoping) Xiao Zhan had done, all he needed was one glimpse.
(Of course he had never been able to find out anything about W1bo. And he had eventually accepted that it was probably for the best that way.)
He grabbed the skateboard off the ground where it had rolled to a stop, and turned to walk back to the boy. Well, boy was perhaps exaggerating a little. He was certainly younger than Xiao Zhan; he looked to be in his early twenties. But he did look small despite being almost as tall as Xiao Zhan. He’d put his cap back on now, and indeed the scars could no longer be seen with his hair pressed into place over them.
“Here’s your board,” Xiao Zhan started, placing it next to him. “Do you— should I go get you some water?” The boy shook his head, hands now holding on tightly to the strap of his cross-body bag instead of the cap. His grip was so tight that his knuckles had turned white. Xiao Zhan wondered then if maybe it was him making the boy uncomfortable and he should just leave him alone. He’d made sure he wasn’t hurt and he had a meeting to get to but— Something just— He couldn’t help the twinge of hope that came alive inside him, at the possibility of this kid maybe knowing…
And then his eyes caught on the Lego keychain dangling from the boy’s bag. He looked at the skateboard again. The cap. The boy’s hoodie from some ‘cool’ streetwear brand. His entire look and his… His face. Xiao Zhan had seen those lips. All at once, it all just clicked into place, like a whole puzzle laying itself out just right.
His breath caught in his throat as he looked the boy up and down once more, letting the possibility— the entirely unlikely possibility— sink in. But then the boy’s gaze flicked up and caught his, and nothing in his eyes looked like he was looking at a random stranger. He looked like he knew. Xiao Zhan swallowed, and let the name slip out.
“Waibo..?” His voice came out so much hoarser than before, and his heart really was going haywire. But the boy let out a long breath, like he’d been holding it this entire time, and then he whispered:
“Zhan-ge.”
Hearing his voice, even so briefly, was enough to make Xiao Zhan wonder how he could ever have believed it was artificial. Even without the filter making him sound metallic, robotic, the voice was so thoroughly him.
Xiao Zhan got down on his knees then, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around as much of W1bo as he could, pulling him into a hug. W1bo gasped and went stiff in his arms, and— Xiao Zhan should probably have given that a bit more thought, he just…
“I’m sorry, that was a bit much, huh— I’m just so glad you’re safe, gosh,” he excused himself as he pulled back, resting his hands on W1bo’s knees instead. W1bo nodded slowly.
“I’m good,” he said in a low voice, eyes locked on Xiao Zhan’s face and looking almost a little dazed. He was cute. He had a round face with high cheekbones and such expressive eyes, and his lips. Now that Xiao Zhan had noticed them, and connected them to those of at least two of his virtual dates, they were the main thing Xiao Zhan’s eyes kept getting stuck on. So there they sat, just staring at each other for a moment.
“I tried looking for you, but …,” Xiao Zhan started, thumb absentmindedly rubbing W1bo’s knee. “But obviously there was nothing to be found with everyone being put into witness protection. I figured that was for the best.”
W1bo hummed.
“But you— you left before, didn’t you?”
W1bo nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no, no— don’t apologise, I didn’t know at all, I thought you’d just been… deleted. I asked about you, but...”
W1bo’s features softened into a small smile. “Seungyoun told me.”
“Seung— Oh, the— one of the... others?” He couldn’t bring himself to call any of them an AI anymore.
“Mmh, he’s my friend.” Now it was Xiao Zhan’s turn to smile.
And then his phone went off, the signal loud and disruptive in their own little bubble off to the side of the busy high street. It felt like it pulled him back to reality from a dream.
“Fuck,” he swore and pulled it out, seeing Lulu’s name on the screen. He answered with shame in his voice.
“Zhanzhan!! Where are you, the meeting’s about to start!”
“Lulu… Fuck, I’m so sorry, but something’s happened, I won’t make it.”
“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Where are you?”
He swallowed, looking up at W1bo, who was watching him intently.
“I’m just nearby and everything’s fine, I promise, but… I ran into something more important.”
Lulu sighed on the other end of the line. “Fine. What do I do?”
“Handle it, of course! There is nothing I could do there that you can’t do by yourself, Lulu. Win them over for us?”
“It’s usually your smile that does that, Zhanzhan.” That made him laugh a little.
“You’ll charm them easily, Lulu. And I promise I’ll be at the other one this afternoon just, now I—“
“Don’t worry,” she interrupted him. “I’ll handle this. You do what you need to do, and tell me everything later.”
“I— I will. Thank you, Lulu. For real.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she said with a laugh. “Now take care of whatever’s so important.”
“I will. See you later.”
He quickly hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket. W1bo was watching him, a small flush on his cheeks. He still looked quite lost.
“Do you have anywhere to be, or can I treat you to a coffee or tea?,” Xiao Zhan asked, straightening up in front of the boy and holding out his hand again, like before. This time W1bo took it.
“Okay,” he said simply, and Xiao Zhan gave him a warm smile. W1bo picked up his board as Xiao Zhan scanned the area again, and soon they were walking side by side up the little side path to a less crowded street. There were a few restaurants, and one establishment that looked like a lunch cafe of some sort. He aimed for that one, putting a hand on W1bo’s elbow to guide him. W1bo felt warm, real, under his hand and small waves of feelings he would do better not to examine too closely tangled inside him.
The door gave a little pling as they entered, and after a quick look around Xiao Zhan led them to the emptiest corner, gesturing for W1bo to sit down at one of the tables.
“I’ll get us some drinks, anything you’d like?”
W1bo looked up at him, and then glanced over to the counter.
“Just a plain coffee.”
“You sure? I’m happy to get you something nicer.”
W1bo’s lips parted, and he looked like he was thinking for a moment, eyes darting around.
“With some milk. Please.”
Xiao Zhan huffed softly. “Okay. I’ll be right back again.”
He left W1bo at the table, and ordered flat whites for the both of them, as well as extra glasses of water. He still felt like W1bo should drink something actually hydrating, he’d— He’d really looked like he was panicking. And now Xiao Zhan was dragging him along to spend time with him, forcing himself into W1bo’s life just because they happened to cross paths. For him, W1bo had been something special, but for W1bo Xiao Zhan must have been one of so many clients. A part of a time that W1bo probably wanted to move on from. Suddenly, Xiao Zhan felt a little sick.
Thanking the barista, he carried the small tray with their finished drinks back to the corner and carefully placed W1bo’s cup and water glass in front of him before sitting down. He was happy he’d gotten the coffee in takeaway cups, as he took a deep breath and spoke.
“If you’d rather not be here, just— leave any time. I won’t follow you.” He’d be disappointed, but he’d get over it. W1bo’s comfort and safety was more important, and he didn’t like the idea that he was causing discomfort at all.
W1bo looked up in surprise and quickly shook his head. “No, I’m— This is okay,” he said, and wrapped his surprisingly large and bony hands around the cup he’d been given. Xiao Zhan breathed out in relief and smiled.
“Okay. Good. Really good. I’m glad.” Words tumbled out of him awkwardly, but it made a smile tug at W1bo’s lips. He really was pretty. His eyes were so expressive as they watched Xiao Zhan, and his cheeks had this soft roundness to them that made Xiao Zhan want to reach out and pinch them. He looked thin, but not too thin, and his skin was a warm, tan shade, like he spent a lot of time outside in the sun. He looked good, healthy, okay. Another lingering worry deep inside Xiao Zhan was laid to rest.
The silence between them dragged on for another moment, and then Xiao Zhan let his gaze drop to his coffee with a smile.
“You’re a lot less chatty in real life, hmm?”
W1bo made a face at that, and pulled his mug closer, still without taking a sip. “Sorry, I’m just...”
“...A little nervous?,” Xiao Zhan filled in for him.
“Yeah,” W1bo breathed out.
So was Xiao Zhan, quite frankly, he didn’t really know what he was doing, but he knew that at least he wanted to find out enough to know W1bo would stay fine.
“Is it okay if I ask you some questions?,” he asked, watching W1bo’s reaction over the rim of his cup as he took a sip. W1bo nodded.
“Did you run away? And— are you safe now, from now on? Sorry, I just—” He realised he sounded like he thought W1bo couldn’t take care of himself, and he didn’t mean that, he just… worried. All those articles, they’d been a lot. He was usually good with words, but he felt like a stuttering mess in front of W1bo. “I was… worried.”
W1bo hummed. “Yeah, I… A friend had been trying to get me to leave for a while. I finally did, then. I have a job and a room thanks to them.”
Xiao Zhan sighed in relief again.
“Good, that’s good. Were you with the Company for long?”
“About a decade maybe,” W1bo mumbled, and Xiao Zhan wished he could punch every single person that had been in charge at the Company. W1bo must have been so young.
“Can I ask, how old are you now?”
“Sure. 23,” he said, and then finally lifted his cup to take a sip. He made a little surprised face at the coffee, as if it tasted different than expected, and then quickly followed with another sip. It looked adorable, and it almost made up for the uncomfortable truths. Xiao Zhan let out a long sigh.
W1bo looked at him then for a long moment, like he was taking in all of Xiao Zhan. His finger was tapping on the edge of the cup and then eventually he smirked.
“Don’t strain your ancient brain too much, Zhan-ge. I’m good, really. I promise.”
Xiao Zhan gaped at him.
“Ancient?!”
“Almost 30, right? Ancient.”
Xiao Zhan spluttered for a moment, before reaching out and playfully swatting at W1bo’s free hand.
“Those extra years weren’t wasted, you know,” he exclaimed as W1bo swatted him back. He only barely had time to realise that his words could be hurtful when W1bo’s face broke out into a wide grin. Xiao Zhan couldn’t have pulled his eyes away, even if he’d wanted to.
The mood between them had lightened considerably, and they were both smiling now, as conversation started flowing a little more easily. It moved on from age to W1bo telling him more about his life, as Xiao Zhan had pointed out the disadvantage he was in this time— what with W1bo knowing so much about him already! W1bo spoke of a race track garage, and the friend he’d made there on his rare days off. He spoke of getting to work there, and getting to practice racing and learn about working with motorcycles. He spoke with excitement, and passion, and it all made it clear what a good thing for W1bo this ‘Zheng-ge’ was.
He was grateful that someone had been there to catch W1bo when he’d needed it, and that W1bo still had support as he worked to stand on his own legs. And W1bo— Xiao Zhan could be nothing but impressed by his spirit, his motivation and how grounded he was. Of course, what was a horrifying scandal to everyone else had been his life, his reality. Of course he would look at it differently. This, Xiao Zhan learned, as W1bo bragged about his perfect matching scores, until Xiao Zhan ‘dared being such a troublemaker that he just couldn’t let go of’.
“All my scores went down, Zhan-ge! All! No one ever held out for more than four dates with me before progressing for years, and then you made me sink to rank 2!!”
Xiao Zhan could only smile sheepishly.
“It’s okay though, it’s not all your fault. I played along, didn’t I? Broke so many protocols they could really have punished me, you know. If I wasn’t one of their best,” W1bo said with a laugh. “But joke’s on them, I fired them. And I’m good and— Seungyoun’s fine too! I’ll need to tell him…” W1bo continued.
And even though the words revealed things that hurt, even though the deep well of guilt inside Xiao Zhan that would fill up every time he remembered some of the things he’d said back then was spilling over into his chest, everything about talking to W1bo like this felt so right. His entire being felt alight with it, with the positive energy of W1bo surrounding him, making his heart ache and want.
But everything that W1bo told him confirmed what he had been determined to hope for all this time. That W1bo had a good life now, away from the Company, away from the people who had exploited him, making his own way through the world. And that Xiao Zhan— Xiao Zhan was part of that past, even if only right at the end. That W1bo hadn’t, and still didn’t, need him, essentially an old client, in his life, regardless of how much Xiao Zhan wished he could be there. He would not be so selfish as to push his own emotions on W1bo.
It was a funny thing, wasn’t it? Mourning someone you’d never had, as they sat right in front of you.
But he would take every minute he could get, soaking in W1bo’s presence. It was so easy to understand now, how that voice in his game had come to mean so much so quickly.
They kept talking, friendly bickering filling the gaps between topics. W1bo asked him about his life. About how he’d been since, and— Whether he’d met anyone. Xiao Zhan just shook his head and smiled. “I really am terrible at dating, you know,” he said.
“I refuse to believe that, Zhan-ge! Anyone would be happy to have you,” W1bo said, just like he’d done back then, and oh, how Xiao Zhan yearned.
Time, however, didn’t stop for him, and before long Xiao Zhan realised that if he was to keep his promise to Lulu, he would need to leave sooner rather than later. He didn’t think he was ready to let go, but he would have to.
“How did you have time to play the game so much, if you’re so busy,” W1bo joked as they made their way to the door, Xiao Zhan’s legs feeling heavy and every single step closer to the exit hard to take.
“I do have evenings off, usually, mostly,” he defended himself, unsure whether he wanted to keep talking to prolong the inevitable or just… walk out, escape, with the blessing of knowledge he had been given today.
“Good,” W1bo said, and held out his hand towards Xiao Zhan as they stopped outside the door.
“What?,” Xiao Zhan asked.
“Your phone. Give it to me.”
Xiao Zhan raised an eyebrow, but fished out his phone and unlocked it before handing it over. W1bo swiped at it, then took out his own, holding them next to each other for a moment, before holding Xiao Zhan’s out again to give it back to him.
“There.”
And on the screen, Xiao Zhan could see his YouChat was open, with a new contact saved to his friends list. Right away, a new message from this contact labeled ‘YIBO’ in all caps appeared. It was a sticker of a waving cartoon pig.
“YIBO?,” he asked, looking back up at W1bo.
“Mm. That’s my name. Wang Yibo.”
And it felt like all the air was punched out of Xiao Zhan’s lungs and he was drowning, and above the surface, W1bo — no, Yibo— was throwing him a lifeline.
“Are you sure?,” he asked, voice mostly a whisper.
Yibo nodded and grinned.
“I’m sure. It’s not that easy to get rid of me! Besides, I still need to find your perfect match, right? I’m a competitive soul, I’m not letting you win.”
Xiao Zhan could only swallow and stare for a moment, stare at the gorgeous, mesmerising young man, so filled to the brim with bubbling warmth and playfulness despite everything. And willing to let Xiao Zhan into his life.
And as Yibo grinned at him, Xiao Zhan’s eyes again got glued to his plush, perfect lips. Lips just like ones he remembered seeing on a date or two. Then he remembered the ones interested in skating, the mechanic with the motorcycle he refused to get on. The date that took him to a Lego theme park. And then finally, he thought back to that early ‘risky’ date, the one where all of these had converged, the one he’d so brutally shot down as not his type back then.
Oh how wrong he’d been.
There was no need to look anymore, Xiao Zhan knew that. But the question that all this raised, that Xiao Zhan barely dared to even think inside his own head, was why.
Why had there been so much of Yibo in all of his dates? Why had he been so quiet, back when—
Yibo was looking a little concerned now, and Xiao Zhan shook his head lightly, pulling himself out of these thoughts. Just— It didn’t make sense, if Yibo didn’t…. Wouldn’t…
And in that one moment, Xiao Zhan made a decision.
“I admit defeat,” he said.
Yibo’s eyebrow shot up, confusion clear on his face.
“You already found him,” he continued, voice softer now. His heart was beating so fast again, and he tried a smile, as Yibo stared at him, taking in his words. Xiao Zhan could see the moment when he connected the dots, and it felt like his heart stopped in his chest. Tears gathered in Yibo’s wide eyes, even as his whole face broke out into a bright smile.
“Zhan-ge, you— you better not be joking,” he whispered, hands curled into fists by his sides.
Xiao Zhan shook his head. “I’m not, I mean every word.”
Yibo took a loud, shuddering breath, and then his arms were around Xiao Zhan’s shoulders as he buried his face into his neck. Xiao Zhan wrapped his own arms around Yibo’s back, holding him close and breathed in deeply. Yibo was a solid warmth against him, and his hoodie smelled slightly of motor oil.
“Fuck,” Yibo whispered into his skin, then laughed. There were sobs mixed in with the croaky laughter, making him sound almost like a frog. It was possibly among the most beautiful sounds Xiao Zhan had ever heard.
“You hated all of them,” Yibo whispered. “All of them.”
Yibo’s fingers were clinging to his shirt, probably crumpling it terribly, but Xiao Zhan wouldn’t have cared even if his next client meeting had been with the president themselves.
“I didn’t know it was you,” he whispered, one hand moving up to the back of Yibo’s neck, fingers tangling in the hair there. “I kept wishing they could be you.”
“I couldn’t tell you, I really couldn’t,” Yibo said quickly, straightening up to look Xiao Zhan directly in the eyes. Xiao Zhan nodded. He understood that.
“Fuck,” Yibo muttered again, voice so thick with disbelief and wonder Xiao Zhan couldn’t help but laugh. When he opened his eyes again, the laughter dissipating, Yibo was looking at him intently, with dark, focused eyes and parted lips.
Xiao Zhan raised an eyebrow in question, and then Yibo pushed forward, those soft lips landing on his. And this time, he probably really did stop breathing. Or if he did breathe, all of it was Yibo. And he would have it no other way.
Xiao Zhan kissed back.
Gently, softly, pushing every drip of fondness inside him into it. And then after a few perfect seconds, Yibo pulled back.
“Zhan-ge, Zhan-ge, Zhan-ge,” he whispered.
“Yibo,” Xiao Zhan responded.
And found that all the worries inside him had been, at least momentarily, washed away by pure joy.
“Yibo,” he said one more time, loving the way the name sounded said out loud. How real it was. Just like every memory they already had together, and every memory they would make.
Real.
★